Open, Shut, Dead

A young ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠woman with bleached blonde hair in a semi-punk getup, and a shepherd-like host with horizontal pupils dressed in casual clothes.

Lee Nahyeon and Hosu sat across from each other at the table, face to face.

She agonized for a while longer, and then apparently decided to play after all.

"Allow me to explain briefly."

Hosu spoke in a warm, friendly voice.

"True Stories is a game of guessing the truth behind an incident through questions and answers. The front of each card shows a short problem about the incident along with a cute little illustration. The back, which tells the full story, can only be checked after Miss Nahyeon declares her answer."

While I listened quietly to the rest of the explanation, I made my way over to the four people standing in the back.

Hwang Juyeon, Yu Hyeonjae, Lee Jinsu, and Jeong Jiho.

The host had warned us, in his roundabout way, not to just idle around doing nothing.

"I'm still thinking it over, honestly. I'm not confident about anything, so……"

Yu Hyeonjae was hoping a new person would come along.

I believed that unless someone died and came back, we couldn't fill the seventh seat anymore. But from Hyeonjae's perspective, there was really no other card left to play.

"So I was planning to just go first no matter what, but she's surprisingly strong-willed, that one."

The co-CEO of Yuwi Guild glanced toward Nahyeon and gave a small, troubled laugh, furrowing his brow.

Well, fair enough. It would feel strange, having someone who wouldn't listen to a word you said.

"Miss Nahyeon simply needs to ask me questions and use my answers to deduce the truth of each incident. Very easy, isn't it?"

Following the flow of Hosu's explanation, I shifted my gaze toward her as well.

"But you may only declare your answer once per incident, so you must choose carefully."

"What happens if I get it wrong?"

"If you're curious, you'll simply have to play and find out. Where's the fun in knowing everything beforehand?"

"Ugh, that is SO unfair!"

"I'm afraid I don't understand. Minor errors in unimportant details I will overlook and forgive. I am a very flexible host, you see."

"Even so, unfair is unfair……"

Giggling over how handsome ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the labyrinth's monster was one moment, sulking and huffing the next—her attitude itself was proof of Nahyeon's own kind of 'strong will'.

Taking advantage of the brief lull in the rules explanation, I picked the conversation back up.

It was unexpected.

I'd assumed he'd be the first to throw his hand up and volunteer to die.

But I had no intention of talking anyone out of dying at this point.

We'd already shrunk to six with Choi Jaeha's death. Five, four—what difference would it make?

Lee Jinsu rolled his eyes this way and that, then spoke up quietly.

He was the type who could never push back against others, the kind swept along by the mood of the room. Even when he worked up the courage, it cooled in an instant.

"Jiho……"

I turned my eyes to the child clutching the hem of Hwang Juyeon's sleeve.

"Anything bothering you? You can sleep if you want. Or maybe I should've grabbed more snacks while I was out."

"Ah, Jiho says he's fine."

Hwang Juyeon took the boy's hand and gave it a gentle tug.

"By the way, how's your face doing, Yuhan? It looks a little swollen. Hmm, wouldn't medicine help with something like that?"

I had been looking at the child half-hidden behind her body; I lifted my gaze.

"No, that kind of thing usually just needs a cold compress. It's not bleeding, so it'll be fine."

"Oh, then should I pop over to the convenience store and buy some ice?"

"No need. I thought about it, but it seemed like the swelling would go down on its own, so I came straight back."

"First. I only answer closed questions. Please ask questions that can be answered with 'yes' or 'no'."

As Hosu's explanation continued, my conversation with Hwang Juyeon came to a natural end.

"Second. I will not answer questions on subjects that are unnecessary or irrelevant to solving the incident. Grasping the subject is an immutable virtue. I know the truth, you see, but I cannot tell you."

I thought it over quietly as I listened to the rules.

He's wary of me. Far too wary.

Why?

There were so many things that ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠could've set him off, I couldn't begin to guess.

Was it because I'd already earned a Life token?

Or had I been too forceful with Choi Jaeha right before he died?

Or did it look strange that Jaeha had gone mad and killed himself, and I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hadn't?

Or……

How. How…… could you do that without so much as blinking……. Get away! Don't touch me! If you can do that to me, what wouldn't you do to the others? You monster……

Maybe those words were the problem.

It was possible that while I'd stepped away for a moment, something untoward had been said between them.

Not that I particularly cared.

It wasn't exactly a bad sign.

Even if they'd conspired to put a knife in my back and steal my gold coins, it wouldn't bother me.

It's not as if they'd come back to life and do it again.

Wanting to live that badly is what's normal.

Having to go that far is what's right.

You have to go that far.

You should have gone that far. You all should have……

"The 'Fragment of Life' grows in proportion to how many answers you get right. Oh, and please note that every incident in this game is true."

I took a few steps toward the table so I could see the cards clearly.

Hosu made no move to stop me, so apparently spectating was allowed—up to a point.

Of course, a player and a spectator discussing answers together would be judged a rule violation.

That much was obvious even without the host spelling it out.

This was the guy who never told us there was a throwing line on the floor when we played darts, after all.

However polite his manner, a monster is a monster.

"Now then, our first incident!"

Hosu held out the card sitting atop the deck.

A simple, hand-drawn illustration of nothing but a single-door refrigerator.

Beneath the picture, the problem was written.

"Wait, question chances does that mean…… there's a limit on questions?"

"Yes."

"Ah! Aagh! No! That wasn't a questiooon! Seriously, this is so unfair! Who does that……!"

"……"

"Agh! Keeeaaagh……!"

Honestly, this woman.

Evidently anything phrased like a question—including griping to herself about who does that in real life—got counted in full.

"Was the man inside a labyrinth?"

A good start.

For someone who'd already thrown away two chances for nothing.

Whether or not the incident's setting was a labyrinth completely changed the scale of what could have happened.

"No."

If the incident took place outside a labyrinth, we could at least reason within the bounds of existing physics.

"Did the man kill himself?"

"Yes."

Then now we had to find out why.

Nahyeon, who'd been tearing at her yellow hair moments ago, stared at the host with a serious expression.

This was a situation where every single question had to count.

"Was whatever was inside the refrigerator the cause of the man's suicide?"

The corners of Hosu's mouth curved up gently.

"Yes."

What we could deduce from that: the refrigerator hadn't been empty—there was something inside it. And that something was of a kind that could drive a man to take his own life.

"Hmm… was the thing inside the refrigerator a person?"

An obvious question.

"Yes."

As I thought. The thing in the refrigerator was a person.

That gave the story its frame.

With just a few more confirmations, we'd reach the answer.

Nahyeon had 15 question chances remaining.

Still comfortable.

"Was the person in the refrigerator the man's family, a friend, or a lover?"

"No."

It's not?

I'd figured he'd seen a relative's corpse and killed himself from the shock.

Nahyeon seemed to have guessed the same thing, because her face flickered with confusion.

"Then was it a complete stranger to the man?"

"No."

Not a stranger either?

Someone he knew, but not family, friend, or lover?

How was she supposed to guess that? Too many possibilities.

"Aaaargh…… did knowing who was in the refrigerator have the decisive influence on the man's suicide?"

"Yes."

"Ah, then how on earth am I supposed to……, huh?!"

Nahyeon, who'd very nearly burned another chance on a half-formed complaint, went wide-eyed like a startled rabbit and stared at the card.

Thankfully, nothing had been spent.

"Did the man die in his own home?"

Having apparently judged that identifying the person in the refrigerator within 12 questions was hopeless, Nahyeon pivoted toward other details.

"No."

Then where was the refrigerator, and why was the man there?

"Did the man die in the home of the person inside the refrigerator?"

"No."

"Umm…… did the man kill the person who was inside the refrigerator?"

The corners of Hosu's mouth lifted once more.

"Yes."

So the man was the one who'd put human flesh in the refrigerator in the first place. And the setting was a third location—neither his own home nor the victim's.

Committing a crime, then fleeing into death because you couldn't bear to face it—that was common enough.

"Did the man kill himself out of fear of his crime being exposed, or out of guilt?"

"No."

"No, then what……"

That one wasn't Nahyeon. It was Hwang Juyeon's voice.

When I glanced back, Hwang Juyeon and Lee Jinsu were frowning in bafflement, and Yu Hyeonjae was gazing off into empty air as if lost in some deep thought of his own.

Jeong Jiho, straining to follow the chain of deductions, tilted his head back and forth—and the moment his eyes met mine, he slunk right back behind Hwang Juyeon and Yu Hyeonjae.

"Did the man know someone was inside the refrigerator when he opened it?"

"Yes."

It kept getting stranger.

He already knew someone was in there. Why would he kill himself over it now?

On top of that, the person wasn't anyone close to him, he wasn't afraid of his crime coming to light, and he felt no guilt.

"Um, hmm…… did the man kill himself by eating something fatally toxic, or by cutting himself with a tool and bleeding out?"

"No."

Short of poisoning or massive blood loss, there aren't that many ways a person can die.

"Uhh……"

Nahyeon seized her own head again.

Only 6 chances left now.

"Aauuugh……"

Never mind the strands of yellow hair scattering onto the table—Nahyeon glared holes into the face of the card.

"Hmm?"

Then, abruptly, she stopped and raised her head.

"Was the man required to close the refrigerator door again?"

"Yes."

Which meant that closing the refrigerator door wasn't just some incidental everyday action irrelevant to the incident—it had played a crucial role in what happened.

I turned the problem over in my mind again.

The man opened the refrigerator door and closed it. For some reason, he had to close it.

Then he succeeded in killing himself. Within mere minutes.

I looked at the face of the card once more—and froze.

A single refrigerator, drawn all alone, shut fast……

……Wait. No way.

I see it now.

I finally understood what I'd been misunderstanding all this time.